Symmetrical
by esoterica
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots.
1. Contrasts

**_A/N:_**_ The following stories are random drabbles I've written over the past few months.  
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_**Disclaimer:** __Blah, blah, blah, coming out your mouth with your blah blah blah,__ just zip your lips like a padlock, yeah, cause everyone knows what disclaimers are about. Am I a poet or what?  
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**_Contrasts_**

_Summary: Just random thoughts, courtesy of Isabella Marie Swan._

_Rating: K

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Elizabeth Masen's ring is oval-shaped and gold, the face covered in slanting rows of glittering round stones. It's beautiful. _It's perfect._

Bella Swan admires the ring on her third finger, trying to memorize the feel of it, its color, its indescribable beauty, like it's going to suddenly disappear.

_Bella Cullen, Bella Cullen, Bella_ Cullen, she rehearses mentally and smiles at her reflection in the mirror. Her face, all red cheeks and translucent skin and wild hair sticking out at any possible direction, looks worn out, her smile forced.

She is imperfect.

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_More to come._


	2. No Monsters And No Magic

**_No Monsters And No Magic_**

_Summary: Bella being Bella. Jacob being miserable, sad etc._

_Rating: T

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_And I've never met anyone quite like you before_

_Temptation, Moby  
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She is _so_ cold now and he was _so _warm. She wants to cry. Bella _never_ liked crying. She would cry if she could now.

_She would die if she could._

It would have been easy, she thinks. Like breathing. Natural. But, no, Bella didn't want easy. Bella didn't want natural.

Bella didn't want _fire_.

She wanted ice. She wanted Edward's topaz eyes and his marble skin and his velvet voice and his perfect arms wrapped around her.

She crashes a whiskey glass with her own alabaster hands. She never _really _needed whiskey anyway.

Bella wishes there were no monsters and there was no magic.

Bella wishes she had kissed Jacob in her old red truck.

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She was _so_ cold now and he is _so _warm. He wants to cry. He doesn't, of course. He is thicker than that.

It would have been easy, Jacob thinks. Like breathing. Natural. He wanted it to be that way. He never asked for fucking _superpowers_. He wanted,_ needed_ natural.

_She_ wanted ice.

He never asked her to be anything else but her. Bella. Bells. _His _Bells. He wanted _his _Bells and her warm, brown eyes and her creamy skin and the fire in her cheeks and her heartbeat and everything.

She's not his Bells now. She is more more like a shell, sickly sweet and cold with cold inside. She is icy, unbreakable and whiter than ever.

The red tip of his cigarette is glowing in the dim light of late evening, he watches the smoke fade into the sky and wishes there were no monsters and there was no magic.

Jacob wishes _she _had wanted fire as well.


	3. Pretend

_**Pretend**_

_Summary: There are two things Jacob hates. Imprinting and Bella Swan._

_Rating: T

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__We're fated to pretend_  
_ To pretend_

_Time To Pretend, MGMT  


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He thinks about it. A lot.

When it comes down to it, Jacob hates imprinting. He really does.

It's ridiculous, abnormal, something that _should_ be a silly campfire superstition. But it's not a silly campfire superstition. It's not, and the worst part is that it _makes sense._

Imprinting is simple and clear and it _makes sense_ and Jacob hates that fiercely.

He has never never felt it - never wants to feel it - but he _understands_ it.

What he doesn't understand is _I want to forget her, I don't want to forget her. _Imprinting makes a lot more sense than _this_.

It's been months, years, or maybe just weeks - the darkness of his tiny bedroom doesn't give away too much.

_Dear Bella, I hate you_-_ I hate that- I could be_-_ I know you've-__ Do you even-_

But, in the end, it's always going to be _I love you, I love you, I love you._

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_He thinks he might be crazy. Now, _that _would make perfect sense.

He sees her, you know. Everywhere. One day, he catches a glimpse of long, brown hair and he almost - _almost _- calls her name.

Then, he hears the ever so familiar roar of the _truck's _engine before he realizes he has misheard _again_.

Maybe he _is_ crazy after all.

* * *

It is September.

He phases occasionally, just for the hell of it; mostly in the wee hours.

In the night, he dreams of her. _Every night. _And she's breathtakingly beautiful, and white as a sheet, as a porcelain doll, and she doesn't blush - _why doesn't she blush? _- and-

She's crying.

_Bella._

When he blinks out of the dream, there is something wet and warm escaping down his cheeks.  
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_Jacob hates imprinting. He really does.

But when it comes down to it, he hates _her_.

But, in the end, it's always going to be _I love you, I love you, I love you. _He knows that and he pretends everything is okay.


	4. Mirror

**_A/N:_**_ I am honestly tired of all the awesome Twilight characters being ignored in fics. Seriously, we have four books dedicated to Bella's whiny-ness , Edward's being a wet blanket and Jacob's abs. Or maybe that just happens in the movies. I can't tell anymore. But, what about Leah? What about Charlie? So, yeah, this is a Charlie-centric, set mid-New Moon.  
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**_Revenge of the (Fallen) Disclaimer: _**_I make no claims to originality. Even if Twilight _was_ mine, there would be no way in hell that I would claim so. I'd probably be suing Meyer's ass off, though. Anonymously, obviously.  
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_**Mirror**_

_Summary: There are more things Charlie and Bella have in common than either of them thought._

_Rating: T

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_Can't you understand_  
_Oh my little girl_

_Enjoy The Silence, Depeche Mode_

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He takes the time to look at her; _really_ look at her and he barely recognizes her. Her empty, glassy eyes gaze absently at the plate in front of her, the food in it still untouched. Charlie thinks it probably is because _he_ cooked this time. Probably it's just wishful thinking. He hopes that it's not.

Sometimes he can't tell if she's awake or asleep - or even _alive_ for that matter. And she seems _so_ much older than she was before. Renee used to joke about how Bella was born thirty years-old. She was probably right.

And, then, there are the nightmares. _Every single night, _endless, screaming nightmares.

_Maybe you should get her a bike or something. _Renee suggests, and Charlie knows that she is as desperate as him. He actually _considers_ doing so. Of course he doesn't. His daughter might be miserable but at least she is still _breathing_.

He decides on something less dangerous - something that doesn't include bikes or animals that have claws and spit hair-balls. Monopoly. (He's _that_ desperate.) Bella agrees, but only to make _him_ happy. Of course he lets her win. He even uses his sad face to convince her that he actually feels sad that he lost. She doesn't really buy it; Charlie's lies are as bad as hers. At least, she smiles - only slightly - but she _smiles_ and that's all that matters.

She still wraps her arms around herself, though, as if she is scared that she will fall apart. He thinks of Edward Cullen leaving his daughter in the woods and he wants to rip his fucking throat out. Because when he looks at her, she isn't _his Bells_ anymore. _"Not to worry Chief Swan, I'll take good care of her." _that little nancy brat had said. Yeah, the bastard took _real _good care of her.

Things have changed the slightest bit, though.

It's been one day, five hours and twenty five minutes since he saw Bella, _his Bells_, and Jacob together, holding hands, laughing. Charlie is ecstatic because Bella is actually, genuinely_ laughing_.

And then he is out of his mind with fear and worry because Jacob is only a kid and he is sixteen and he is a sixteen year old _boy_. And he knows that sixteen is too young.

Charlie thinks of himself, of how he didn't follow Renee to Phoenix, because Forks meant home, Forks was his job and his house and his friends.

He wants to rip his own fucking throat out.

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_Charlie remembers when Bella was just a kid and he and Renee were together. _Oh, I swear, she will be the spitting image of you when she grows up. _Renee blushed happily and Charlie wondered why the hell nobody noticed that Bella had _his _cheekbones and _his _lashes and _his _eyes. Maybe the whole town's on crack.

They had never been close enough, never shared the relationship that she shared with Renee. Charlie could never complain, though. He had no reason to.

He is looking at her now and he knows that it doesn't matter that she smiles and laughs and holds hands with Billy's boy and fills out college applications and acts like everything is alright.

She is still broken. _It's like he's looking into a mirror._

Bella is not just a kid anymore but she is Bells, _his_ Bells, and that will never change.

He doesn't say anything. For the first time, he just pulls her in a bone-crushing hug and they both know that's enough and that's all that really matters.

Because, in essence, she is still his little girl.

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_Dayum, I'm on fire! Also I have a huge thing for bone-crushing hugs, as you've may noticed. But, c'mon, this was the_ perfect_ moment for one. _

_The magic word is review._


End file.
